Care to Command

1 No Shame

Care To Command

dedication:

To the amazing group of people who read this book while it was in progress. Thank you for laughing, crying, and sassing with me. This story wouldn't be the same without your support and energy.

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epigraph:

"One day, someone will love you the way you deserve to be loved, and you won't have to fight for it."

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(Picture is just for vibes, this is not how I imagine them lol)

Chapter 1

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I've been working at this office for four years and still don't know how to use the coffee machine. The modern, black appliance exposes my incompetence as I shove the little pod into the pocket and punch random buttons beneath.

"Are you seriously drinking coffee before happy hour?" A familiar, infuriating voice says behind me.

"Oh my God, Lucas," I turn around, mouth open in surprise. "Congratulations, you have eyes!"

My colleague — the reason I started yoga to stop daydreaming about murder — stares at me, no doubt about to say something stupid.

"You're in my way, shorty." He lifts a strong arm above my head and opens the cabinet, making me duck down to not get hit.

"It's Layla — or future boss — and I was standing here first!" I grimace as the heat from his chest seeps into me. He takes an Advil bottle and closes the cabinet, smirking as I have to duck again.

"Quick reflexes for a poodle," he says, pointing his chin over my shoulder. "Are your paws unable to turn the coffee machine on?"

I grab a paper towel to push him away without getting any of his germs on me. The only problem is that he's a 6'4 ex-Marine with a stubbornness as thick as mine, so he doesn't budge an inch.

He just opens the bottle and pops two pills in his mouth, staring down at me. The sunlight from the open blinds shines on his chestnut hair and makes his cognac eyes bright.

"You should really wear a deodorant," I say, smiling as he becomes serious. "And I can see your nose hair from this angle. Maybe trim it sometimes."

"You're five," he deadpans, stepping away.

"Five times better than you," I fire back, resisting the urge to strike a gangster pose.

"Are you two bickering again?" Grant, my boss — also Lucas's brother in law — steps into the break room. He's in his fifties and has a very thick accent that makes everything sound wise.

I've started at his production company as an intern then climbed the ladder throughout the years, specializing in data analysis to predict and strategize viral content.

The peasant next to me uses that information to film commercials with our team —  soon to be my team, when I get promoted to Vice President and make him cry. I've marked my calendar two months from now and bought a champagne to celebrate.

"Grant, can you tell Layla that she doesn't need to dress like your secretary to be taken seriously?" Lucas scowls at my go-to button-down and hair bun.

"I... I just want to look professional." I blush, furious at him for embarrassing me in front of the one person I have to impress.

"I'm just saying, it's stressing everyone out!" He chuckles. "We're making videos, Layla, not saving lives. You almost made the new girl cry today because she laughed during a meeting."